The state chronicle. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1883-1893, 1887-09-22
60 IT DOES.
4 Daucing Match Between Zcb Vance
and Sion II. Rogers.
lMaxwell German in the Southern Home.

and sion II, Rogers.
lMaXweu German in the Southern Homel
Gen. ]. NJ. Leach spends considerable
Of his time in Washington with his son,
J. NJ. Leach, Jr., who is chief OF divi-
sion in the Sixth Auditors Office The
general is as full of "Reminiscences and
good stories as ever and one which heard
him relate to a party of Nor;h Carolnians
the other evening will bear repeating.
Said he, in effect:
You know that Zeb Vance used to be
a member of the National House before
the war, and Sion Rogers rc resented the
Raleigh district in Congress Well, some
friends sent Frank Shober, of Salisbury,
and me Il case of very fine wine one day
Zeb, and Sion found it out, somehow and
they used to come around to see us mighty
often. Ia fact, they became great friends
of ours, sticking closer than brothers.
while the wine lasted
lone night, after they had relieved us
of a half dozen bottles, more or less, they
got to feeling pretty good, and after a
while Zeb. remarked that h. believed he
was just about the best dancer that North
Carolina ever sent to Congress.
'Now, nobody ever heard of Zeb.
Nance's virtues as a dancer before. Every
one knows that he doesn't III the least re-
semble ballet girl He amt built right
to dance and | didn't believe he had ever
had any experience in that direction be-
fore that night; but he stuck 10 his asser-
ton.
"Wei, Zeb. kept repeating the state
ment until finally Sion says: 'Zeb., don't
count myself any great shakes as apracti-
cal exponent of the terpsichorean art, but
| allow that | can just dance the hind legs
off of you
''Now, Sion Rogers was built like a
bean-pole; he was over six feet high and
as thin as a wafer, and no living man ever
saw him without "a big pair of eye glasses
adjusted to his long nose. If it was funny
to think of Zeb. Nances dancing it was
simply ridiculous to consider Sion Rogers
in that connection. But Shobcr said he
believed Sion could down Zeb.; | asserted
to the contrary, and Shober bet me 500.
''The room was cleared. Zeb. and Sion
peeled off their wearing apparel until moth
ing was left but nocturnal habiiments,
and the two contestants took their posi-
tions on the floor. It was an i'll assorted
pair never were two men more unlike.
Shober and | were to do the patting and
Zeb. and Sion were told that the man who
stayed on the floor longest was to have a
halfdozen bottles of our wine. Shober
started the old plantation pat; the dancers
caught step and went at it.
20 IL, SlOn. shouted SnODef.
- Buckle down to it, Zeb!' | exclaimed;
and both men began to rattle off a double
shuttle back-step that would have turned
any niger in North Carolina green with
envy.
''Time passed.
'Midnight came and went; the clock on
the mantle struck one. The dancing still
went on.
daylight appeared. Vance was begin
nlng to double like a hunchback, and he
was sweating like a draft horse. Sion
seemed to grow taller every minute: his
head was thrown back, his arms stood
akimbo, only his toes appeared to touch
the floor, and not a drop of perspiration
was visible about him.
The hotel breakfast bell rang. Shobcr
and | were nearly exhausted, although we
took turns in patting; but the dancing still
went on. Zeb's shirt was sticking to him
like huge court-plaster, but Sion looked
as cool as a Christmas snow storm. Ieb.
was bent over until he had nearly assumed
a sitting posture, his bowlegs looking as
round as a barrel hoop. Sion continued
to grow taller, and his eyeglasses still
preserved their equilibrium on the end of
his nose.
"When 12 o'clock came, and Congress
assembled, we suggested a recess. But
no; Sion wouldn't hear to it. Finally
saw that Zeb., who now stood only about
feet, 2 inches in his socks, was about to
subsde, and | gave up.
1.-The artists then once more regaled
themselves with our wine, and Zeb. went
to bed. But Sion didn't. After dancing
&c hours without stop, he went to the
House of Representatives and made big
speech.
A HeaVen.bOrn Editor.
[From Macmillan's Magazine for August I